by Shirley Jump
The heat from her body merged with his. Her perfume floated in the space between them, something darkly floral. It enticed him, drew him even closer. He leaned over her shoulder and reached behind her to ostensibly put down the bowl. “I should put this in the sink.”
She stayed where she was, her chest rising and falling with each breath. “Thanks.” The word escaped in a whisper.
As he drew back, Dylan paused and pressed a kiss to the valley of her neck. Damn, she tasted good. Better than the ice cream. Better, in fact, than anything he could remember tasting in a long, long time. He kissed farther up her neck, her skin soft and sweet and warm. Another kiss, a fourth, inching his way along that delicate curve, then the underside of her jaw.
Abby let out a little mew, then drew in a sharp breath and leaned toward him. Dylan planted his hands on either side of her, then kissed her jaw, the soft fullness of her cheek, then drifted closer to her mouth. Her breathing hastened but she stood stock-still, waiting, anticipating.
When his lips finally met hers, Abby opened to him. Her arms slid around and up his back. Dylan planted his legs on either side of her, and she shifted into that space. Desire surged inside him, overriding common sense, the dozens of reasons he had for not getting involved. All he knew right now was Abby. All he wanted was Abby. Their kiss deepened, becoming hotter, faster, hands sliding along backs and waists and—
“Mommy? You coming to tuck me in?” Jake’s voice, echoing in the staircase.
Abby jerked back and put her hands on Dylan’s chest. “Uh, yeah, Jake.” She turned back to Dylan. Even though her cheeks were flushed and she was still breathing hard, cool distance had replaced the warmth in her. “You should go. I have... I have...”
“People to tuck in,” he finished for her.
“Yes.” She stepped to the side and smoothed her hair. She cleared her throat. “Uh, thank you for the ice cream. It was a nice thing to do.”
“You said that already.” Dylan grinned. Was it possible that the strong and confident Abby was just as flustered as he was by that kiss? A little part of him hoped so.
“Oh, well, yes, uh, I forgot.” She started walking out of the kitchen, with Dylan following behind. She opened the front door, the message clear—leave now, we’re not returning to that kiss. “Thank you again.”
“Anytime.” The word was one of those throwaway ones, the kind people said without really thinking about it. But when Dylan thought of stopping by Abby’s anytime, a little rush ran through him.
Insane. She represented home and hearth and kids—and he was unattached, unburdened, unhomey. Just because he enjoyed a dish of ice cream in her kitchen or got a little sentimental when he watched her dance with her son didn’t mean he walked in the same world she did. Or even should.
“See you at the center.” Dylan reached for the door handle.
“Mommy, can Dylan read me my story tonight? Please?”
Dylan turned and saw Jake, wearing dinosaur pajamas, the buttons a little askew, and holding a hardcover book. Dylan could see himself in those pajamas, with that book, waiting for a dad who was never going to get involved, never going to take the time to read a story. His mom had done the work of two parents, always excusing her husband from his parental duties with excuses about stress or exhaustion. Dad’s tired tonight. Or Dad had a hard day at work. Or Dad’s grumpy because he’s stressed about work.
Sam had read Dylan stories at night—the two of them propped up against Dylan’s headboard in the room that they shared. Sam had read about pirates and lost treasures, adventurous dogs and amateur detective twins. Then Sam had gotten older, found girls and basketball and moved into his own room that had been cobbled together from an unused corner of the basement. By then Dylan could read on his own, of course, but he remembered being hurt and wondering why his brother no longer hung out with him in the evenings.
Can Dylan read me my story tonight? Please? He could see the hope in Jake’s face, the need in his voice.
“Jake, Dylan’s going home,” Abby said. “He—”
“Would love to read a story,” Dylan said.
She turned toward him. “Really, you don’t have to. I mean, it’s a lot for Jake to ask.”
“I don’t mind, Abby. I remember being that age and wanting the same thing.” Besides, how hard could it be? Dylan could read—way better than when he was a kid, after all—and Jake was just a little boy. It would take five, ten minutes, tops.
Besides, Jake was kind of growing on Dylan. He was a cute kid, who was curious and bright and funny. And reading to Jake might make Dylan a little more comfortable relating to the kids at the community center.
Yeah, that’s why he was doing it. To relate better. Not because he could hear the echoes of his own childhood in Jake’s voice.
“Okay,” Abby said to Jake. “But just one story.”
“Aw, Mom...”
“One.” She and Dylan made their way up the stairs to the first room on the right. It was a small bedroom, with a twin bed in the shape of a red race car, a set of bookshelves filled with toys and books, and two toy chests overrun with stuffed animals and cars and robots. Jake’s dinosaurs were in a pile at the foot of his bed, with Joe the triceratops on Jake’s nightstand, basking under the light of a dinosaur-themed lamp.
Jake scooted over on his bed. “Dylan, you can sit here. I mades room.”
“Uh, okay.” Dylan lowered himself onto Jake’s bed and sat back against the headboard. He settled in, while Abby went back downstairs to load the dishwasher.
“Here. I wanna read this book.” Jake gave him a hardcover copy of a book about a lonely dinosaur who goes on a cross-country adventure.
Dylan opened the book and started to read. At first, the words were as stiff as Dylan’s posture, but as he read, he settled into both. Jake shifted, then snuggled up against Dylan, his little head resting on Dylan’s left arm. Dylan hesitated for a moment, caught in the middle of a sentence.
“Uh, and then the dinosaur said...” Dylan looked at the page, then over at Jake’s head, nestled into the soft cotton of Dylan’s T-shirt. It could have been him and Sam, years ago. And something in Dylan’s heart melted.
“He said he wanted a friend,” Jake said. “And then he meets a friend. And then he’s happy. And then they go on adventures. I love this story. Mommy reads it a lot.”
Which made Dylan wonder anew why Jake wanted him to read the book. Had Jake tired of his mother’s reading? Or was there something more here, something that Dylan didn’t want to see?
That maybe Jake had already latched on to Dylan and begun to see him as a pseudo-father figure? If so, that was far from the role Dylan, of all people, should be playing. Sam was the one with kids, the one who had settled down, made a life in this town. Dylan was only here for a short time, and then he’d be gone. And with his past, he wasn’t cut out to be anyone’s father, substitute or otherwise.
But was it worse to let Jake down tonight or to give him this time to be happy and then let him down weeks from now? Either choice would leave this little boy with heartbreak. The last thing Dylan wanted to see on any child’s face.
Or on the face of that child’s mother.
* * *
Abby paused outside Jake’s bedroom door. Her breath caught in her throat, lodging with a thick lump. Jake sitting there, curled up against Dylan, a smile on his face, while Dylan read about the lonely dinosaur traveling the world to find a friend. The book was a favorite of Jake’s, one she herself had read to him, oh, two hundred times.
The scene before her was one she had prayed for a thousand times when she’d been married to Keith. She’d always thought, given the chance, that he would step up and be a good dad. Take Jake on piggyback rides and shoot hoops with Cody. But in the end, Keith had checked out, spending more of his time away from home than with his family.
But this was just a scene,
a blip in time, and she knew better than to put her stock in a man who was only going to let her down. And worse, let her sons down. They had had enough of that for one lifetime. Even today, seeing Jake’s face when they brought back the dog, she’d wanted to cry. She felt like a terrible mother, saying no when she really wanted to say yes. Her baby had had to give up so much already—she hated the thought of him losing even more.
Her tender feelings were about more than that, she knew. She was starting to care about Dylan. Enjoying spending time with him, seeing the way he smiled at her, the way he patiently taught her how to work on the floors and the walls, and the way being around him made her heart race like it hadn’t in a long, long time.
Dylan finished the book and closed the cover. Jake had nodded off, so Dylan slid out from under him and pulled the covers up to Jake’s shoulders. He turned, then noticed Abby. “Oh, hey. Didn’t see you there.”
“I was only here for a second.” Long enough to see the look of adoration and hope on Jake’s face, the little smile that lingered after he fell asleep. Long enough to know that men like Dylan didn’t hang around and that she was going to be the one left to pick up the pieces in his wake, for her kids and herself. Better to remember that than to let a smile and a racing pulse affect her decisions.
Dylan stepped into the hall, leaving Jake’s door ajar. “He’s a busy kid, but fun and smart.”
“He is.” Abby smiled. “I got lucky. A lot of women say their second child is more difficult but Jake has been sweet from the day he was born.”
“I think a lot of that is due to you. You’re so great with him, with both boys.”
Here, in the dim hall, Abby was a hundred times more aware of Dylan. Their kiss still simmered on her lips, and the desire still rumbled in her veins. A part of her wanted to take his hand and bring him down the hall to her bedroom and finish what they had started.
The insane part, clearly. Her son was starting to lean on and believe in a man who wasn’t going to stay—but he still believed in Santa Claus and the tooth fairy, too. It was crazy of her to do the same thing.
“Well, thanks again,” she said. “I’ll show you out.”
“No problem.” He followed her down the stairs and back to the front door. At the last second, he pivoted back to face her. “Tomorrow, the center is closed, so I have a rare day off. I was going to do some reno work in the morning, but what do you think about going fishing later in the morning? Uncle Ty has a pontoon boat he keeps down at Stone Gap Lake, and he said I’m welcome to use it. I’m hoping I can get him out, too, to get some sun and maybe catch a few bass.”
“Fishing?”
“It’ll be fun. I’ll even bait your hook for you.”
She put a fist on her hip. “Do you think I look so girly I can’t do that?”
“Well, no, but you know, most women I’ve known don’t like to handle worms and stuff like that.”
She gave him a sassy look. “I’ll have you know I’ve been fishing since I was five years old. In fact, I bet I’ll be the first one to catch a fish.”
He grinned. “Are you challenging me? Because I’ve been fishing all my life, too. And Uncle Ty has won a few titles, in the years he isn’t beaten by Ernie Morris.”
This was where she was comfortable, with teasing and jokes and activities. Not with those quiet moments in her kitchen when she imagined things that were never going to come true. When she started to fall for a man who wasn’t going to be here down the road. So she’d fish with him and leave it at that.
She put out her hand. “Want to put a wager on it?”
“Okay.” He thought a second. “Ten bucks says I catch a fish faster than you do.”
“Make it twenty and I’m in.” They shook and she laughed. As she watched him leave, she realized she was feeling light, happy and, most of all, anticipating spending another day with Dylan.
Damn it. Just when she had convinced herself to let him leave and not see him again, Dylan had come up with an idea she couldn’t resist. She didn’t want to like this guy—
But she did.
And the worst part? Her sons liked him, too.
Chapter Six
Uncle Ty put his feet up and shook his head. “You kids go without me. I’ve got a football game to watch later.”
Dylan looked around at Ty’s ranch-style house. He and Aunt Virginia had lived here for their entire marriage. When Aunt Virginia had been alive, the house had been bright, merry. But now, it seemed as if the light had gone out of the space. The curtains hung despondent and limp and the air held a musty, sad scent. “I need you on my team, Uncle Ty. I made a bet with Abby that I could catch the first fish.”
Uncle Ty scoffed. “Dylan, you know I love you like a son, but your fishing skills suck.”
“Exactly why I need you along.” And one of the things Dylan didn’t want to admit to Abby. Call it manly pride, but he didn’t want her to think he was bad at anything. “Your superior fishing ability should balance out my inability to hook anything.”
Ty sat back in his recliner and fiddled with the remote. He’d muted the TV when Dylan came in. The images of Bruce Willis and Sylvester Stallone filled the screen in one of those guy movies with a lot of guns and not a lot of plot. “I wouldn’t be good company,” Uncle Ty said finally.
“And sitting here all day is better?” Dylan sighed. “Aunt Virginia would be mad as hell at you for doing that. She’d want you to get out of the house and go fishing with Abby and her boys. Not to mention your favorite nephew.”
Ty let out a short laugh and shook his head. “You’re a pain in the butt, you know that?”
“Yup. I do indeed.” Dylan held out the canvas hat he had grabbed from the hook by the door earlier. His uncle didn’t take it. “Here’s your lucky fishing cap. All it needs is you to be wearing it.”
Ty didn’t say anything for so long, Dylan was sure he wasn’t going to go. Then Ty flicked off the TV, popped the footrest back into his recliner and got to his feet. He reached for the cap and plopped it on his head. “How much money do we have riding on this bet?”
Dylan chuckled. “With you on my side, not nearly enough.”
There was a small shift in Uncle Ty’s mood as he headed out of the house. His steps hesitated when he approached the truck, but he got in and made small talk while Dylan drove.
On the way over to the lake, Dylan stopped at the community center to show Uncle Ty the renovations he’d done so far, hoping maybe that would bring his uncle out of his funk. Ty made all the appropriate sounds and words, but his enthusiasm for the center was still low. Give it time, Dylan told himself. Soon enough, Ty would be back at work, and that meant Dylan could get back up to Maine and to the job waiting for him there.
All of this—the ice cream, the fishing, the work at the center—was temporary. His real life was far from Stone Gap, far from women like Abby Cooper. Yet he forgot all of that the second he saw her and started thinking about the kind of life he was far from equipped to have.
They pulled up to the dock and got out of the Jeep. Abby and her sons were already waiting there, Cody leaning against Abby’s car and texting on his phone, Jake holding his mother’s hand and dancing from foot to foot. “Dylan! We’re goin’ fishin!”
Dylan chuckled. “Yup, we are. But first, you’re gonna need this.” He reached over and into the pontoon and pulled out a life jacket.
Jake pouted and argued, but in the end, Abby told him he had to wear the life jacket or forget fishing. Abby bent down and fitted the life jacket around a wriggling, impatient Jake. When she was done, Jake looked down at the thick orange vest with a pout. “But Cody isn’t wearing one.”
“Cody, you know how to swim?” Dylan said.
Cody shrugged. “Sorta.”
Dylan grabbed a second life jacket and tossed it at Cody. The teenager caught it with one hand. “Then you get to
wear one, too.”
“Yay! Me and Cody are the same now!” Jake ran over to his brother. “Mine has a whistle on it. Does yours have a whistle? Can we blow the whistle?”
“That’s just for emergencies, Jake,” Dylan said. “Like if you fall in and you need us to come get you.”
Jake’s eyes widened. His gaze darted from Dylan to Abby, to the water and back again. “Am I gonna fall in?”
“No, sweetie, you won’t fall in.” Abby put a hand on her son’s shoulder and knelt down to his level. She checked the belt on the life jacket and tightened it a bit. “Just be sure to listen to Dylan and Ty, okay? They’re the bosses today.”
Dylan had to laugh at the idea of being the boss of anyone. Sure, he’d run construction crews before, but that was different than commanding a family of three on a fishing trip. Uncle Ty was the one used to being in charge, but as he glanced at his uncle, he saw that Ty still wore a look of disengagement. Somehow, Dylan had to get his uncle to plug in today. Maybe then the cloud over Ty would begin to lighten.
Dylan glanced at the group, all of them waiting on him to do or say something. “Well, it looks like everyone’s all set. How about we get on that boat and catch us some dinner?”
“Wait. I brought a cooler,” Abby said. She reached into her back seat and pulled out a small dark blue container. “Snacks and some water bottles, in case we’re out here a long time.”
A smile flickered on Ty’s face. “And that, nephew, is why you always invite a woman on a fishing trip. They think of the important things like food and drinks. Your Aunt Virginia always made me two ham-and-cheese sandwiches and tucked my favorite soda into the cooler.” His eyes misted and he shook his head. When he spoke again, his voice was thick, and his hands trembled. “I sure miss those sandwiches.”
Abby put a hand on Ty’s shoulder, kindness and understanding filling her features. “I thought you might be feeling that way, Ty, so I made you two ham-and-cheese sandwiches and packed a Dr. Pepper.”